Kellanved's Reach

The mage nodded, sat back and steepled his fingers before his chin – a gesture Dancer loathed as too self-aware and affected. ‘I see. But tell me, what use a weapon none know? This way stories of the harrowing of Cawn will spread to serve as a warning to all. Also,’ and here the mock-elderly mage gave a wink, ‘you did tell me to throw them a bone …’

Dancer felt his shoulders slump in surrender. Yes. He did say that. ‘Still, Cawn?’

‘One could say the same of anywhere, my friend. It had to be. Better here than elsewhere.’

Dancer cocked a brow. Well, maybe that was true. After all, no one gave a tinker’s damn about Cawn.

At dawn they drew up to the broad wharf of Cawn’s harbour. Lines were thrown and the gangway was wrestled into place. A troop of soldiers debarked first, then Kellanved and Dancer came down. A contingent from the city awaited them. Peering up past them, Dancer noted smoke rising here and there across the city, as from disparate fires. Trash and broken carts and barrels littered the broad cobbled way as if some sort of demolition had been taking place.

The Cawn representatives themselves bore witness to the night’s terrifying ordeal; dishevelled, their eyes dark and sunken, hair a-tangle, they all kept bowing to Kellanved, hands clasped, eyes downcast.

Kellanved raised his hands in benediction. ‘You have had a taste of my ire, citizens. It would not be well to try me once more.’

The merchants threw themselves down to their knees, hands raised. ‘Never, lord. We are yours. How may we serve?’

Kellanved gave a deprecating wave. ‘Just one small thing only. Your boats. All your trading river craft. I have need of them.’

The merchants glanced amongst themselves, mystified. ‘River boats, my lord? Truly?’

Kellanved rapped his walking stick to the cobbles. ‘Indeed. Now. Immediately.’

The representatives of the merchant houses scrambled to their feet. ‘At once, m’lord!’ They backed away, bowing over and over. Dancer watched them go, half shaking his head. Doing so, he saw among the gathered Malazan and Napan troops the scowling figure of Surly, arms crossed, lips compressed, a frown between her eyes. He crossed to her.

‘River boats?’ she asked quizzically.

‘Transport.’

‘So we are headed upriver.’

‘Indeed.’

She snorted. ‘I’d half doubted it. What about the Five?’

‘We have Tayschrenn, Nightchill, and the rest. We can match them.’

Now she appeared more worried than vexed. ‘It’s been hundreds of years since a confrontation on a scale like this. Who knows what might happen?’

‘Don’t worry. It may not come to that.’

Now she appeared truly puzzled, and she opened her mouth to ask, but Dancer pulled away, motioning after Kellanved. ‘Have to go. Don’t worry. You’ll see.’

Over the course of the morning every Napan and Malazan trooper was transferred to a river craft of lesser draught. Joining Dancer and Kellanved on board the first vessel were Surly, Tayschrenn, Nightchill, Hairlock, Calot and Dassem. Thankfully, the Idryn was a shallow and wide river of sluggish current and so sails served to take them on the first leg of the journey.

Dancer sat back against the low railing while the vessel tacked its way north. Tayschrenn, who had been on board another ship out of Malaz, came to stand next to him. The lean mage drew a hand down a patchy beard he was growing, eyeing him on and off. Finally, Dancer sighed and motioned to him. ‘What?’

The High Mage nodded and cleared his throat. ‘So, you succeeded?’

Dancer didn’t have to ask what he meant. Peering at the passing low farmlands, he nodded. ‘Yes. After a fashion.’

‘And Jadeen?’

‘She … failed.’

The High Mage nodded again; clarification was unnecessary. Both understood what failure meant at these stakes. ‘And?’

‘And … what?’

The High Mage smoothed his thin beard. ‘Will we … see?’

Dancer drew his hands down his thighs, let out a long breath. ‘Let’s hope not.’

The mage’s brows rose in understanding. ‘Ah. I … see. Indeed. Let us hope not.’ And bowing, he took his leave.

Dancer returned to watching the flat farmland pass. So, Li Heng. The one city he wished never to see again. Still … once all this was over, perhaps he should go by to see how she was … But no. Better not to draw any more attention to her – he’d brought enough misery into her life as it was. In three days and nights – if the winds were with them – they should make Heng. As far as he was concerned this was it. Taking a no account pirate haven named Malaz was one thing. Overcoming an entrenched cabal on the mainland was another entirely. There would be no going back after this. Every hand would be raised against them. Quon and Tali would march. Perhaps even Unta, noble haughty Unta, would be forced to wade in.

It would all be different from this point onward – should they succeed.

And if they failed … well, both he and Tayschrenn understood what failure meant at this point. It was what they had put down as a stake – and this was the toss of the bones.

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